The Lone Warrior
by Writer Of Ruin
Summary: The tale of Theotret, a Surdan warrior who embarks on an epic journey to find his meaning. He finds more than he expects. In turn, he meets with Eragon, who has just become a Dragon Rider.
1. Synopsis

The Lone Warrior

A spin-off of the Inheritance Cycle

Synopsis

This story begins several months before Eragon finds Saphira's egg. It is set in a small hamlet many miles south of Surda. The hero, Theotret, is an orphan, much like Eragon, whose mother died several hours after giving birth to him. His father, a soldier in the army, distraught with grief, began to drink recklessly and carelessly. After several hours of heavy drinking, the village was raided by Galbatorix' troops, and Theotret's father, a soldier, had to fight. The troopers were driven off, but Theotret's father died in the process.


	2. Hilts And Blades

The Lone Warrior

Chapter One

Hilts And Blades

Theotret grasped his sword firmly. It was a longsword with a jeweled hilt, and a vicious, straight, sharp, blue blade pointing out from the hilt. Above the jewel was a dragon's head, so it looked as if the blade was protruding from the dragon's mouth. The sword was called Eréthyr, and Theotret had looked the name up in every dictionary, but could not find it. The village magician eventually told him that it was an elven blade, revealing that it could never be marred by battle. It had been handed down through the generations, and had served him well.

A flash of silver seared through Theotret's plane of vision, and he flicked his sword up, just in time to stop the other blade from carving his eyes out. He followed through by twisting the blade around, flicking it off, and spinning into a 'tornado attack' as he liked to call it. However, Theotret's opponent was also a skilled swordsman, and he blocked the sky blue blade at his hip. Theotret looked up at his opponent.

His opponent was Seonen. Theotret regarded his skill as equal to Seonen's, and they were considered to be the best warriors in Prade. Seonen had cropped blonde hair, with small, piercing emerald eyes. He was about two inches shorter than Theotret, but probably of a more muscular build.

"I don't think so, Theotret." He pulled his sword out and started slashing with some complex, quick blows. Theotret parried them all, but staggered on the last block, and dropped his sword. On the follow-through, Seonen couldn't help smacking Theotret along the face. He insantly dropped his sword, and took a pace forwards towards Theotret.

"Are you alright?" Seonen crouched near Theotret. Theotret nodded slowly, dropping his hand and letting the warm blood trickle down his lips. It was flowing fast out of both nostrils. He wiped the blood off, but a stream of new blood burst out.

"I think it's time to end our session." Theotret smiled, but some of the blood trickled into his mouth and he gagged. He spat it out, picked up his sword, and nodded. He sheathed his sword, and headed towards Dicia's house.

-----

He knocked firmly on Dicia's front door. Dicia was the town medic, who was about fifty, and was skilled at alchemy and would definitely know how to stop his nose from exploding with blood every thirty seconds and eventually passing out from blood loss. Dicia, who was about a foot shorter than Theotret, opened the door.

"Oh, not another casualty... I swear, you and Seonen are going to kill each other some day..." Dicia dragged Theotret into the house by his arm, and sat him in a chair. She bounded up the stairs and off into a distant room.

Theotret became dizzy, and groaned.

"Dicia..." he said.

"Alright, alright, I'm here..." she said, running towards him, cursing Seonen under her breath. She wrapped a thick blanket of wool around the bridge of Theotret's nose, securing it with a glue that she had hastily made with a mortar and pestle. The glue had a terrifically bad odor, and Theotret gagged as it wafted up his nostrils.

"Okay…" Dicia muttered. "that should be fixed up in a couple of days. And, that means no sparring with Seonen OR anyone else for the next two moons. Got that?" Dicia said. Her stern tone of voice intimidated Theotret. He nodded, clamped his nose with his hand, and rushed out of Dicia's front door, uttering a muffled 'thank you'.


	3. Scarecrows

The Lone Warrior

Chapter Two

Scarecrows

Theotret woke with a start.

He clutched his nose, where the pain was coming from, and looked down at his bed. It was stained with crimson blood. He sighed, got up out of his bed, and flung open a curtain with such aggressiveness that he almost tore it off the hinges.

It was nearly sunrise. Theotret wiped the last of the blood from his nose with a woollen towel, and started opening the other curtains. He slipped on a loose vest and linens, and fastened his tunic over it. Despite Dicia's warning, he belted his scabbard on.

Theotret's house was a small cottage on the outskirts of town. It was a lonely little place, with many wilted crops that had not been watered since his father started drinking just over three years ago sitting on a sodden patch of farmland to the east. He sighed and walked out of the cottage, slipping some sandals on his way out.

The night was ending. The orange sky shone down on Theotret as he locked the old cottage door shut. He walked out onto the front patch of farmland, kicking the old wheat aside, and looked at the old scarecrow that he and his father had built so long ago.

Tears sprung to his eyes as he recalled that memory. It was Theotret's earliest memory. It was a warm summer day, and his father had suggested that they make a scarecrow to ward the scavengers from attacking the crops brutally. It had been several months before his father had started drinking even more heavily, and Theotret himself was only five. They had had so much fun building the scarecrow.

Theotret flung the memory away, and drew his sword. Whenever he had been unable to spar, or there was no-one to spar with, Theotret would hack away at the scarecrow to hone his skill. He ran his index finger along the edge, almost drawing blood, and then, bitterly, he swung his sword heavily at the scarecrow.

The blow was hard, but, as usual, it did not mar the scarecrow's metal frame underneath the baggy shirt and stuffed hay. Letting a small moan of anguish escape, he swung yet another time, but tears clogged his eyes, and he overhit, jolting his arm, and dropped the sword.

This sudden burst of shock drew a fresh stream of blood from Theotret's nose, and, half-sobbing, he slumped in a heap against the wall.

Not five minutes later, soft footsteps rang out across the night. Theotret turned his head, and at the entrance to the cottage was Isha, Dicia's daughter, looking worried.

Isha had long, straw coloured hair, that hung well past her shoulders. She was a foot shorter than Theotret, and almost a year younger.

"Theotret? Is that you?" Isha asked.

"Yes." he replied.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. My injuries are nothing that time will not heal. However, I fear that I may not ever recover from something as emotional as this."

"What?" Isha was puzzled.

"My father." Theotret sniffed, and blood flew up his nose. He winced at the pain.

"Ah." Theotret's father was always ground that the villagers were careful to tread around during conversation with him.

"I was sure that I had gotten over it… but being out here… it opened a scar that has not yet healed over."

"Theotret, we were all sure that you had… I mean…" Isha stuttered.

"I understand… I just need some good sleep. Thank you Isha." Theotret walked up and pulled her into a tight, friendly embrace.

After a few seconds, she pulled away, and started to walk back to her house. Theotret unlocked the door to his cottage, and collapsed on his woollen bed.

**I'm sorry for writing such short chapters… anyway, I hope you've enjoyed the story so far. Please review!**


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